The Improvement
by Jabberwockyjinxes
Summary: You may not give each other your names. Each candidate is given a number for their own protection. You may not talk about the testing. You may not talk about the past. You may not talk about the Improvement. You may not leave until you have been cleared. Welcome to Camelot.
1. Chapter 1

**Improvement: Noun; to be improved. The act of adding or removing select genomes in a person to further develop the human condition until the perfect race is created. The Improvement is used to remove a genome known only as 'EMRYS,' a rare condition that causes dangerous abnormalities in the host.**

"So, you due for improvement?" Arthur asked the man sitting next to him. No one in the room responded to him, although a tall, thin man across the room shot him a hostile glance. The latest batch marked for improvement were about to be tattooed, a procedure that would mark them out as some of the lucky few who Uther would help, free of charge.

Arthur himself was a cop until his half-sister, Morgana, had been marked for improvement. Since the genome ran in families, Arthur checked himself in for testing as soon as possible.

The other people in the room with him were the result of a raid, the same one that had ousted his sister. People with the condition tended to stick together. Arthur had been part of the raid. He remembered the horror he felt as his sister, his own sister, went forward, eyes flashing gold.

People feared the EMRYS condition and rightfully so. It went right to the critical brain centers of a person, effectively making them lose sight of who they were. They often turned to crime and violence for no real reason except for the love of bloodshed. If there was the slightest chance Arthur had the condition, he wanted it gone. He had turned himself in for testing straight away.

He felt someone shift into place next to him. It was the tall, thin man who had glared at him before. He practically screamed diseased: He was thin to the point of emaciation, his cheekbones hollow and his eyes hard. Arthur shifted into a defensive stance, ready to attack at the slightest hint of hostility.

"You're Arthur Pendragon." He said. "You're Uther's son."

There was an angry murmuring at that. Arthur knew that his father's treatments were unpopular among the afflicted. He had memorized the statistics. Depending on how early they caught the disease and how far it had worked into their blood, one in four people who underwent improvement died. But, the facilities were top of the line: They were clean, with experienced doctors and all the latest technology. Statistics said that the Improvement was safer than ever before.

"So what if I am? He's the one who's curing you, for free."

The tall man looked angry at this. "What do you know about being 'cured,' Arthur Pendragon? Has your father told you the truth about this?"

Another man piped up, his face hideously disfigured by scars. "He honestly doesn't know. Ha! The Pendragon doesn't see exactly what's in front of his face."

"Right on you, Ed."

"We don't use names around here." The tall man's voice cut in sharply. "Don't give the Pendragon anymore to use against us. No disrespect to our other Pendragon comrade." They were talking about Morgana, of course. Morgana hadn't spoken to Arthur since the raid.

"I'm scared." A little boy said. "I'm gonna die, aren't I?"

The tall man went to crouch next to the little boy, probably his little brother or son. They looked so alike, both of them with piercing blue eyes, dark hair and fair skin not unlike Morgana's that they could only be related.

"Don't worry, buddy. You'll be fine. We always are, right? What do we do?"

"We stick together, no matter what."

"That's right. I won't let them hurt you."

Arthur was confused. They were talking about the Improvement like they were so sure it would kill them. If they knew they had the condition, surely they would be better off cured or dead? Wasn't it a risk worth taking?

He had seen the infomercials, just like everyone else. It listed the symptoms of the condition: Eyes that chance colour between the normal brown or blue and gold, changeable as the weather. Uncontrollable urges to destroy, starting with smashing little things and almost always culminating in terrorist attacks or murder. Research showed that more than half of all murders were carried out by those with the condition.

"You're all confused." He said. "The Improvement won't hurt you unless the disease has gotten too far, then won't you be better off dead?"

"You don't get to say that!" the scarred man said. He launched himself out of his seat and before Arthur could blink, the entire room was on their feet. The tall man was suddenly standing next to the scarred one, holding him back, and the young one was looking visibly distressed. Arthur stood, somewhat belatedly.

Before the conflict could resolve itself, a man in a white lab coat poked his head out of the adjoining room. "Is everything alright in here?" he asked mildly.

"Just fine. Right?" the tall man asked, looking carefully at the scarred man. The other man nodded.

"Just get the Pendragon out of here as fast as possible." He snarled. The doctor shut the door.

"See what you do to us, Pendragon? You send us here so we can be poked and prodded and experimented on and maybe, if we're lucky and we survive, then we're marked for the rest of our lives," someone said.

"It helps you." Arthur insisted. Everyone in the room was tense for a long second, then they seemed to relax.

"But M-"the little boy started, then he was cut off.

"Shhh. No names, remember?" the tall man said.

There was another tense second and everyone returned to their seats.

They remained there until the doctor poked his head out again. "I'm ready for the first of you. 17?"

A tall, blonde woman who had been sitting next to Morgana stood up. She nodded once at Morgana. "I'll see you on the other side." Arthur recognized it, vaguely, as an old Earth saying, something to do with death and the afterlife.

His sister just nodded tensely. Arthur wanted to reach out and make her feel better, but she was very attached to the blonde woman. When she let go, Arthur could see the tension settle in her shoulders again.

"She was a good woman. Avalon will miss her." The tall man said.

"Avalon? Is that your terrorist organization?" Arthur asked without thinking. He shut his mouth quickly, figuring that it would be best to not insult these people when he was vastly outnumbered.

"No, it's not a 'terrorist organization.' We aren't terrorists." The tall man answered.

For a long time, there was silence.

OOO

The doctor had given each person a quick, preliminary check-up to ensure they didn't have any infectious diseases. Arthur was called second-last, after the scarred man and before the tall man. You could cut the hostility in the air with a knife.

The doctor, a kind man named Lance, welcomed him into the small office. "Arthur Pendragon?"

"Yes."

"Son to Uther and Ygraine, half-brother to Morgana?"

"Yes."

Lance nodded. "So, do you have any health concerns?"

"No, I'm healthy." Arthur said.

"How's your diet?"

"I eat well."

"Do you do sports?"

"Football, twice a week, and the gym."

"Any old injuries?"

"A shot wound to the left shoulder, knife near the appendix."

"You're a cop, then. You led the raid against these people?"

"Yes."

Lance turned away. Arthur could see the anger radiating from his shoulders and he wondered if, perhaps, Lance was not all that he seemed. But when he turned back to Arthur, his face was stony and impassive.

"Lift up your shirt."

Arthur did so. Lance poked around at the old gunshot wound and the faint scar from the fight he had gotten. Arthur seemed to live a charmed life, sometimes. No matter how dangerous of a situation he got into, he was never fatally injured. Lance declared him good to go, so Arthur put his shirt back and left through a door at the end of the hall.

Walking along the hallway, Arthur caught the faintest hint of an urgent, whispered conversation through a door.

"_Erlin?"

"I'm fine."

"You always say that."

"I am."

"The magic?"

"You know me, Gwen. They can try to take it away all they want. It won't work."

"But Merlin! What if this is the time that finally kills you? You've lost weight. You've got way more scar tissue than last time you were in here. This life is going to kill you if you're not more careful!"

"People are counting on me. You and Lance, you do your best, but I think Pendragon is onto us. If he finds out who I am-"

"He won't."

"But if he does?"

There was a rustling and the creak of someone getting up from a chair. "Someone's listening."

Arthur ducked into an office and waited until the door opposite him had slammed firmly closed before he let out a breath and walked the rest of the way down the hall.

Lance. Gwen. Merlin. It was some sort of conspiracy. Suddenly, Arthur smiled to himself.

The game was on.

OOO

Out of the medical office was the barracks where the rest stayed. There were bunk beds, stacked three bunks high. Arthur was one of the last out, so he was left to claim a bottom bunk in the furthest corner of the room. He dumped his bag and flopped down at the bunk, getting his phone out to text his police partner, Gwaine.

He had only stamped out two letters before his phone was snatched from his hand by long, slender fingers. "You were listening in on the good doctor and I, weren't you?" he asked.

"No, of course not, _Mer_lin. Why would I do that? After all, I would hate for your good Gwen to come under fire. It's not like what she's doing is completely illegal or anything."

Merlin had paled throughout the speech. "Gwen has nothing to do with anything. You'll keep her out of this."

"Oh? Because it sounded to me like she knew quite a lot about this. In fact, one would think that she had seen you before, _Mer_lin."

"You'll keep quiet. I'm a powerful guy, Arthur. I would hate for Uther to come under fire. Or your pretty sister, what's her name? Morgana? I would hate for my hand to just… slip… over her morning tea."

It was the posturing of a boy, no more than eighteen, scared out of his wits by a new environment. Arthur laughed.

"You won't hurt her. You're bluffing."

"Maybe."

Merlin shrugged noncommittally. "Until then, my brother and I will just stick around here."

Then, like it was the most mundane thing in the world, Merlin floated himself up to the top bunk.

Huh, Arthur thought. He must have eaten something funny at dinner, because he thought he just saw Merlin float.

He had a standard-issue quarantine kit: A small white bag filled with a toothbrush, a comb, and a set of grey pyjamas. All the people who had been caught during the raid had been issued one of the bags. Arthur, who had time to pack before turning himself in, didn't need one.

The small boy walked over to the bunk where he climbed up and sat beside Merlin.

"It hurts." The little boy said. "You promised me it wouldn't hurt."

"It'll dim." Merlin promised. Their voices drifted down towards Arthur, one low and confident, one high and scared.

"I can't stand it. It burns."

"Sshh, shh… It'll pass."

"What happens if I die without it?"

"I won't let that happen. Don't worry."

From where Arthur sat, all he could hear was the deep breathing of the child as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Merlin stayed upright and alert, shifting occasionally to keep himself awake.

Night fell. Arthur got changed in the washroom, went back to the bunk, drew some makeshift curtains around himself and fell asleep.

OOO

Arthur woke up next morning to hearing the blonde woman being dragged away.

"Morgause! Morgause!" he heard Morgana yelling. "Come back! You promised!"

Morgause was dragged away, screaming. Above him, Merlin told the simple, silly story of a Prince, Princess and a cryptic dragon to the child.

Arthur shut his eyes against the noise, repeating to himself the familiar mantra of his childhood: Improvement is good. EMRYS is evil. Improvement is good. EMRYS is evil. Improvement is good. EMRYS is evil. As he thought that to himself, the scarred man walked up to his bunk.

"You can't stand to listen to it, can you, Pendragon? That's the noise of your family killing my people. Morgause is strong. She won't survive the final trial." The scarred man said. "Walk with me."

Arthur stood up, walking away from the noise. The scarred man walked beside him, both of them on high alert.

"My name is Edwin." The scarred man said finally. "You're Arthur Pendragon."

"Yes."

"You condone this? This torture? But, of course. You're Uther's son. They won't touch you."

"I know the procedure is dangerous, but they don't torture anyone. The whole thing is government-sanctioned. My father provides funding for you all to be as comfortable as possible."

"Keep believing that, Pendragon. Aren't you going to ask where I got my scars? Normally, people do."

"Where did you get your scars?"

"Your father. I got them when my parents were suggested for Improvement and your father's people went in, guns a-blazing, and burned down my village. We were a simple people, Arthur. We lived simple lives in a small village, without any of your fancy technology, and we were happy. Until they came and burned the village down, rather than let my parents live with their… Condition."

"We don't condone unnecessary violence." Arthur said tonelessly. "What do you want me to do?"

Edwin turned to face him, full on. Arthur stood stock still.

"I don't care about many people, but I do care about Merlin."

"Yes, he seems to have that effect on people."

"This is his fifth time through the system. He is, as you would say, incurable."

"That's none of my business."

"He's strong. But one time more through the system and he'll die."

"I can't help that. Maybe he's better off dead than with the condition."

"Maybe." Edwin agreed. His face was impassive, but Arthur could see the anger burning through his narrow eyes.

"Even if what you say is true, I can't help Merlin."

"Why not? You're Pendragon. They say such good things about you, but I don't believe them. I don't care if you're going to save the world if you're going to break Merlin along the way."

"I've never met Merlin before in my life."

Edwin regarded him for a long minute. Arthur felt awkward under his gaze, like he was being judged and not measuring up.

"No." Edwin said finally. "I daresay you haven't."

They walked back to the barracks. The scene they walked in on was an alarming one.

A beautiful young woman with bright blue eyes and dark hair, older than Morgana but younger than Edwin, sat huddled down in the center of the room, screaming. "You can't stop me! You're the traitor! Balance must be restored!"

A second after that, Arthur noticed that she had a knife.

Half a second after that, he noticed that she was holding it up, preparing to throw.

A quarter of a second after that, he noticed that she was aiming it at Merlin.

One eighth of a second after that, he noticed that the knife had left her hand.

Time seemed to slow. Arthur rushed at Merlin, hands outstretched. The knife came closer. He got closer to Merlin.

One sixteenth of a second before the knife would have hit Merlin, Arthur's full body force hit him. It sent them both tumbling towards the ground, the knife going over their head by mere millimeters.

"Die!" the dark-haired woman shrieked. She sent a wave of some strange force –gravity or air or something more nefarious- towards Merlin. For the second time, Arthur took the full force of the attack, throwing his body over Merlin's.

Her last shriek was cut off as the child, Mordred, produced a rope of invisible string from the air, strangling the dark-haired woman and cutting off her final curse.

From the side, Arthur could see Edwin smiling.

He got up off Merlin, letting the younger, thinner man up. Merlin straightened and, with all the grace he could muster, got silently to his feet.

Lance walked in a second later. "Is everyone OK?"

"Yes." Merlin said. He avoided Arthur's eyes. "Arthur took the brunt of the attack. Nimueh will need to be restrained before she tries anything again, but Mordred has handled that quite effectively." He sent a look at Mordred, who released his invisible vice on Nimueh.

Lance stood in the middle of the room where everyone formed a circle around him.

"For those of you who are new here, here are the rules: You may not talk about the testing. You may not talk about the past. You may not talk about the Improvement. You may not leave until you have been cleared." He took one final deep breath, his eyes sparkling with some hidden irony that only he seemed to understand. "Welcome to Camelot."

* * *

**I made some small edits to this fic, previously published almost a year ago. I just got back into fanfiction after around 8 months away, but I am working a lot and have a demanding course load, so updates will probably only come once or twice a week.**


	2. In Which Merlin is in Trouble (Again)

"_Welcome to Camelot," Lance finished._

The crowd had barely started to disperse when Morgause stumbled back through the doors. Arthur was one of the last to turn, so he heard the others react before seeing the woman herself.

He heard the murmuring and gasps as they first saw Morgause. Picturing a woman radiant, the disease removed from her system, he turned around and was met by an alarming sight.

Morgause was covered in blood, from head to toe. Her lovely blonde hair was matted into thick knots and her red leather jacket was the only thing left unscathed. Arthur rushed towards her, he and Merlin each taking one arm as she fell.

"What happened?" Merlin demanded. His face was tight and drawn, like he hadn't slept well in a months. "Morgause? Look at me. What happened?"

"It's worse this year. They're looking for Emrys, they're going to kill him. They think if they kill him, magic will go away. What if it does?"

"It'll be fine. He won't be found."

"The suppressors-"

"We'll get it out. I brought the tools."

"Thanks." Morgause exhaled. Then, and only then, she allowed herself to fall into unconsciousness. Arthur exchanged one worried glance at Merlin, then they dragged her over to the nearest bunk.

"Get away. Give her space. Mordred, find Gwen. Edwin, I need bandages. Aglain, find Morgana. Calm her down."

"Ho-"

"I don't care how, just do it! Arthur, get water. Isedir, get your druids. We'll be needing some extra help." Merlin knelt down beside Morgause and began to chant strange, latinish words softly.

Arthur walked away to get water from the washroom. As he walked, he thought about Morgause: How she had clung to Morgana, how she was always the first to be dragged away. Then, how she looked coming out of the room.

Maybe he was naïve. Maybe the Improvement wasn't the perfect system after all. Morgause hadn't seemed sick before; was it really necessary to remove the gene?

Mordred didn't seem sick. But he was only a child, maybe seven years old. How far could the condition have spread?

Merlin had seemed sick at first. His cheekbones were too hollow to be fully healthy and his eyes were dim. But his eyes were only as dim as an ordinary person's. Just because something, intuition or otherwise, was screaming at Arthur that Merlin wasn't supposed to look so sad didn't mean it was correct. The hollow cheekbones were, more than likely, a combination of genetics and poor nutrition. He had brought these people in from a raid. The majority of them had been living on the streets before. Merlin could have been as well.

Then, there was Morgana. It hurt to think of her, so he didn't.

Still, he thought, there had to be a way to remove the gene that didn't involve this- Whatever it was. It looked like nothing more than cold-blooded torture, but there had to be a reason behind it.

Uther wouldn't condone it otherwise.

When Arthur returned with the water, Merlin was still working. People had broken off into smaller groups and were talking. Arthur saw Morgana standing next to Mordred, clearly trying to be cheerful and went to talk to them.

"Are you both OK?" he asked. Morgana glared at him.

"This is what your –our- father does to these people. You think he doesn't know it?"

"Why are you so attached to Morgause?" he pressed.

"You don't want to know."

"No." Arthur deadpanned. "Why would I want to know who got my sister tangled up in this mess?"

"I won't tell you then, since you're obviously not interested." Morgana said. Arthur smiled thinly at her.

"Look, I know what people say about me. But believe it or not, I'm not stupid or weak. I can take it. So spill."

"Morgause is my sister."

Arthur blinked three times. "What?"

"You heard me. Morgause is my sister."

"What do you mean, she's your sister?"

"As much as I'd love to stand here and cater to your whims, I'm going to go see her now." Morgana said imperiously. But before she turned to leave, she nodded at Arthur. Just once, and it was barely a tilt of the head, but he saw it and understood. She didn't blame him for what happened.

Arthur crouched down next to Mordred.

"She's bloody scary, isn't she?" he said. Mordred just laughed, creepy and endearing in his own way.

OOO

Arthur retired to bed that evening at about ten. He wanted to rest up well that night, having a feeling that something bigger was brewing. He would need his energy in the morning.

Three people had been taken for Stage 2 over the course of the day. There had been a girl named Freya, a boy named Gilli and an elderly man called Iseldir.

None of them had walked back in through the metal door yet. Arthur hoped they were still alive.

OOO

Arthur woke up to someone in the bunk above him shifting about, muttering to himself.

He fell back asleep and didn't think anything of it until morning.

OOO

The next morning, no one was back from phase 2 yet, but the walls were covered in graffiti.

_Emrys is here_, it read, in bold, old-style letters. _No prison can hold us._

"What does it mean?" Arthur asked, to no one in particular. Morgause materialized beside him, seemingly coming from nowhere. She was still heavily bandaged, but her bearing was as regal as he remembered it from the first time he had met her. He could see traces of Morgana in her (somewhat haughty) demeanour and the curve of her smile.

"It means that our saviour, Emrys, is among us. It means that he is still fighting the tyranny of the Pendragon."

Arthur was silent for a long moment. "You keep calling me that."

Morgause shrugged. "Uther is the Pendragon. You are the Pendragon. Your sister is the Pendragon. Any one of you has the potential to either save us or destroy us. It's been that way, now and forever."

"And the Emrys?"

"Not _The _Emrys. Emrys."

"About Emrys, then."

"He is our saviour."

Arthur sighed in frustration. "I don't understand. What are you being saved from?"

"Uther, of course. He's trying to kill us all. The magic-"

"Magic doesn't exist."

"What do you call this, then?" Morgause's eyes flashed gold, just for a second and a few loose ends of her bandages began to float in the air, performing intricate patterns. Arthur watched it for several long seconds. "It's right in front of your eyes and you still won't believe it."

"Ah." He said. "Magic, then."

"Magic, then."

OOO

Arthur watched with quiet fascination as Merlin dug a small metal bar out of Mordred's skin, then, through a small incision, inserted it into himself. He immediately paled, but even as Arthur watched, the wound sealed itself over. Mordred seemed to relax.

"There. You'll be just fine." Merlin said. He jiggled his arm around, seeming pleased. "I'll need a few more, but this will help. Thanks, Mordred."

"What are they?" Arthur asked.

"Suppressors. They've been taking us in the reverse order that we were rounded up in during the raid, so that means my turn will be coming up soon. The suppressors attract magic to them so it all compresses into one place, manipulating the cells around it, sort of tricking the machines into thinking that it's a cancer. It's difficult to explain."

"Why do you need so many?"

"I have a lot of magic."

"Who invented the suppressor? Why would they do something like that?"

"Let's just say they were invented by a very brilliant man, a friend of my mother's." Merlin turned to his left, where a boy Arthur didn't know by name was passing by. "Hey, Osgar. Can you lend me your suppressor?"

The boy, Osgar, nodded. "Only because you asked so nicely."

As Merlin put another suppressor in, Arthur considered getting up and wandering. He was interrupted by one of Lance's irregular appearances. He knelt next to Merlin, for a minute and whispered something in his ear. Merlin nodded and got up.

"My turn, I guess. I'll see you soon, Mordred. Arthur." He said.

A faint tremor in his hands was the only indication that he was in pain.

"Good luck." Arthur said. Mordred stayed silent.

OOO

A bit of snooping revealed that Merlin had stored his phone under the mattress of the top bunk. An even quicker look revealed that he had nearly a hundred missed texts from Gwaine, his partner in crime (prevention).

**Where are you?**

**Did you go in for Improvement?**

**Answer your phone.**

**Arthur?**

**Have you gotten any of my calls?**

**If you're going to do something stupid, like go in for Improvement, don't.**

**I'm pregnant.**

**That didn't work? Answer me, Arthur.**

**At least call.**

**The boss is getting mad. All this time off is going into your vacation time, you know.**

He kept scrolling down. The texts went on like that, getting more and more worried as he went through them. Then, one of them made his heart stop in his chest.

**You haven't seen a kid named Merlin in there with you, have you? I think he got taken in for Improvement. He'll be tall, late teens, skinny, cheekbones that could cut glass.**

Then, a few minutes later, another text, on the same subject:

**If you were the one who arrested him, I'll kill you.**

Arthur gulped. He hadn't been the one to arrest Merlin, but everyone who was taken in for testing was returned injured and it was only phase 2. He felt somewhat responsible for the welfare of the small, thin boy.

_**Relax, I've got it all under control.**_Arthur sent. He smiled at his phone. Gwaine was irritating, drunk more often than not, and irresponsible. But when it came to caring about people, he was the best.

His phone chimed a moment later.

**So, is the kid with you?**

_**Yeah. Don't worry, he's OK. They just took him in for testing a minute ago.**_

**How long ago?**

_**About ten minutes, why?**_

**Did he put these small, metal bars in his skin beforehand?**

_**Yes, why?**_

**How many?**

_**I don't know. At least three.**_

_**L**_**ess than ten?**

_**I guess. Why do you care so much?**_

Everything was silent on Arthur's end for a few minutes, then his phone rang. It was Gwaine, probably come to yell at Arthur with his actual voice.

"Hey." Arthur said.

"Hey, Princess. So Merlin's in testing right now?"

"Yes."

"Once he gets out, you need to set aside your pride and make sure he survives. Alright, Arthur? This is serious."

"He'll be fine." Arthur said. He got up and began to walk down the abandoned hall between the washrooms and the barracks, pacing back and forth. He could hear the faint, tinny noise of drunken talking in the background of Gwaine's call, so he was probably in a bar.

"I need you to swear to me, Arthur. Swear on your mother's grave that you won't let him die. Whatever it takes, he can't die."

"Why?"

"Swear to it."

"Fine." Arthur huffed. It was unlike Gwaine to be so serious. "I, Arthur Pendragon, swear on my mother's grave to ensure the continued life of Merlin-If that's his real name."

"Be serious. Look, Arthur. If this kid dies, it'll be bad."

"How bad?"

"You really have no idea who he is?"

"No." Arthur replied sullenly. He hated it when people acted like this, all uppity and holier-than-thou just because they knew some obscure name or fact. Morgana was the master of that, when they were younger.

"Let's just say, if he dies we'll have fucking war on our hands. Not just civil war, or even Earth war. We're talking trillions of deaths, here."

"Who is he that so many people would fight for him?"

"I can't tell you."

"Fine, then." Arthur snapped. "I'll just find out for myself."

He hung up on Gwaine. A few seconds later, his screen lit up again. This time, it was Percival, a quiet guy from the force. Arthur didn't know much about him, except that he was the premier wrestler in the twelve colonies and a crack-shot with anything sonic.

"Hey. It's Percy."

"I know. I do have caller ID." Arthur said.

"Gwaine says you aren't listening to him."

"No, because he's an idiot." Arthur sighed. Percy stayed silent for a long moment.

"You won't let him die?"

Percy didn't have to define who 'he' was.

"No, of course not. I'm not evil."

"I know. You're just Uther's son."

Arthur slumped against the wall and slid down into a sitting position.

"I don't want to argue."

"Don't, then."

"Why is this kid so important? I don't understand."

There was another long silence. "I don't think I should say."

"Tell me. Or I'll find out. Leon will tell me."

"No one knows." Percy said suddenly.

"What?"

"Whatever the secret is, these people would rather die than betray it."

"Gwaine knows."

Percy snorted from the other side of the phone, but made no answer. When it became clear he wasn't going to receive one, Arthur hung up.

It was the question of the day: Who was Merlin and why would so many people die over him?

OOO

Merlin returned a short four hours after being taken in for stage 2.

It would take them a further four hours to stabilize him. After that, he would sleep for three days. Lance and Gwen would help, and the druids, and every other person in the building.

Was this why they had to keep Merlin alive? Was it this strange pull he had over people, making them want to protect him?

Arthur didn't know. What he did know was that regardless of his upbringing, regardless of what Uther said about magic-users, regardless of his mother's last wishes, he would protect Merlin.


End file.
